


A part of me left for you

by NathalieWeasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathalieWeasley/pseuds/NathalieWeasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time passes, but love remains….</p>
            </blockquote>





	A part of me left for you

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hp_silencio on LJ. MASSIVE thank you to Mari for the beta. You were encouraging, pushed me as a writer, and put up with my ridiculous time issues. Title comes from “Even after the entire world has taken me apart, there's still a part of me left for you.”, a caption written by Iain Thomas for _I Wrote This For You_ , an online blog turned book. Thank you DIG for the great prompt!

Draco slips into the club past the over-built bouncer and heads directly for the bar. The club is more crowded than normal (Draco would know, he comes here every weekend), and he has to push past a tall balding man and a snogging couple just to gain access to the bar.

The club is small, dark, and quite sleazy, to be honest, but Draco likes it. He can get lost here with no questions directed at him from concerned parents, friends, and neighbours about how Draco is _feeling_. Fucking wonderful, thank you very much. Any choices Draco made about his past relationship, or, to be more specific, any choices made _for_ him are solely the concern of him and his ex. Draco pushes any thoughts of a certain green-eyed man out of his head as he places an order with the tattooed barman.

The barman places a shot of vodka on the bar and scans Draco’s body with lustful eyes. Draco knows he looks good; the black tank highlights his thin figure and pale skin, and the leather pants hug his hips and legs, showing off the curve of his bum and muscles of his thighs. A wink at the barman gets Draco an extra shot, and he downs both in quick succession. With a burning throat and watering eyes, Draco throws a tenner onto the bar and disappears from the barman’s sight into the crowd. The barman is more than welcome to come after him (and Draco would most certainly agree to any _activities_ between them), but right now Draco needs to feel the press of bodies against him, and the barman will probably not get off his shift for hours.

Draco slips between two sweaty men on the edge of the dance floor, and, predictably, someone grabs his bum. Not bothering to look behind him to see the face of the man trying to fondle him, Draco smoothly begins dancing, gyrating his hips against those of the mysterious, seemingly-taller man. But the stranger has apparently had quite a bit more to drink than Draco; their hips aren’t moving together, the man’s hands are awkwardly groping Draco’s hips, and, as if sloppy dancing weren’t enough, sour, dank breath is hitting his ear. Effortlessly slipping from the man’s grip, Draco moves deeper into the club, closer to the pounding of the speakers near the deejay’s booth, and simply lets himself go.

The music seems to beat in a rhythm to match his heart, and Draco closes his eyes, swaying his hips and enjoying the blackness, the anonymity, and the escape of dancing at a Muggle club far from fretful mentions of past relationships and painful memories of happier times scattered throughout his flat, his job, and the entire wizarding world. He briefly opens his eyes and debates getting another drink to push him deeper into oblivion when he catches the eyes of another man in the club. A green-eyed, dark-haired man with a faint scar on his forehead. A man whom he hasn’t seen in three years, since Harry walked out of the flat they shared, too frightened to commit to more than the sex-filled, drama-free relationship they had shared.

Harry has been watching him. His eyes pour over Draco’s body, and the heat emanating from them is more intense than anything the barman from earlier will ever be able to match. Draco swallows, and Harry’s eyes follow the movement to his throat. Harry starts walking closer, and Draco debates running. But he doesn’t; he never could back away from what Harry wanted. And then Harry is there and is kissing him, and the music fades away. The tongue in his mouth, the arms wrapped around him, the _smell_ of Harry’s cheap cologne enveloping him...nothing has changed. Draco shifts his hips against Harry’s, and his heart speeds up at the deep groan from Harry’s mouth.

All of a sudden, Draco is pushed against a wall, and Harry’s arms are on either side of his head. A brief pause, and then Harry nudges his long, lean body against Draco’s, and Draco’s doesn’t even need to _think_ before he pushes back, and the two are swept up in the music. Draco’s body moves against Harry’s to the beat of the music without any effort, and he’s overwhelmed by the pure _feeling_ of the moment as their hips undulate together against the grimy brick wall. Harry’s chest presses against his own, his hands tighten in Draco’s hair, and Harry’s lips move down to taste Draco’s throat. The feel of Harry’s tongue on his sweaty skin is exquisite, and Draco wants to stop time, to stay in this moment with no baggage, no past, no break-up.

Harry’s lips have moved back to Draco’s own, and Draco can feel his erection pushing against Harry’s. Harry rolls his hips against Draco’s, and Draco smirks knowingly; three, two, one… Harry raises an eyebrow. At Draco’s nod, Harry pulls him toward the dark corridor at the back of the club that leads to the loo. No words are needed. Words might even ruin this small reprieve they have garnered from the daily pain of separation.

They enter the loo, which is thankfully empty. Draco barely has time to read the _Garrett wuz here_ scrawled underneath the image of a penis drawn in lipstick before he is shoved into another wall with Harry’s lips against his own. Ever hasty, Harry only snogs Draco a minute or so before dropping to his knees and looking up at Draco with such an open, loving expression that Draco forgets they are not a couple. His hands rest in Harry’s thick hair, the strands slick with sweat and, assumingly, the latest hair styling product Granger had foisted on him. Harry’s hands are at his belt, dipping inside his pants to grasp his erection, and Draco can’t breathe. His heart stops when Harry licks the tip of his cock, and then Harry’s mouth is around him.

Emotions swirl through Draco’s mind: the absolute _pleasure_ at having his cock sucked, the resentment of not having had this man (and his mouth) in his life for the past three years, and, above all, an enduring, lasting love for the beautiful man on his knees. Draco pushes Harry’s head away from his cock and sinks to his knees, meeting the surprised green eyes with calm grey ones. He loves this man, and he wants more than just a one-off in a dark loo. The green eyes widen. The immediate understanding between the two men is _why_ Draco is in love with Harry and willing to stop a truly marvellous knob job. Holding Harry’s gaze, Draco leans forward and catches Harry in a soft kiss, hoping, hoping, _hoping_ that Harry wants a relationship as much as he does.


End file.
